


It Couldn't

by LiteralGuitarHero



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag, I Tried, M/M, Sad, Sad Ending, author doesnt know what she's doing, bad poetry-ish, really i did, send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralGuitarHero/pseuds/LiteralGuitarHero
Summary: It wasn't fair.It never was.





	It Couldn't

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first draft for this when I was in inpatient therapy. It's not really poetry, but it's not not-poetry, you feel? It's kinda sad though, sorry, I guess.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that Laurens was enraptured the moment he looked at the angled features.  
It wasn't fair that he couldn't help but let his eyes linger. From the strong set of his shoulders, to the lovely, round curve of his ass. Alexander was a meal, and John let his mouth water and his eyes feast.

It wasn't fair the way he let himself fall into the words, and the passion inside Alexander. The way he fueled the other's fire, and found his own being fed.

It wasn't fair that all he could do to drown the feelings was to swallow past all of the burning and drink until he swayed and fizzled with warmth and felt his eyes roll back and see stars. 

It wasn't fair that he couldn't help but melt, when Alexander, tentatively, reached a hand near his, after too many pints, and beamed, when John bravely, after hesitation, clasped it with his own.

It wasn't fair when John's heart raced when he got him alone, and felt his lips. And despite his whispers and hushed tones, wanted to shout in the dizzying intoxication he got off of his hand in the younger's hair, and the breathy whines he emitted.

It wasn't fair the way Alexander's eyes slipped shut and his lips parted to exhale John's name, when John sank into his tight heat. How John's hips stumbled, and his heart broke a bit when he cupped his lover's cheek, and the other turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm. 

It wasn't fair; the frustration and shame that buzzed, when Alexander asked about Martha and Frances, and promised to be better, if it meant John could love him like that too.

It wasn't fair how one so utterly brilliant, could be so utterly blind and naive.

It wasn't fair that the world would never let them alone.

And the look, the welling tears, and trembling lip, and the shock, and the shame, and fear, and embarrassment that he could see well up inside his beautiful boy, was the most fucking unfair of all. 

It wasn't fair the way his heart crumbled in his chest, when Alexander walked away, staggering, his shoulders slumped and shaking.

It wasn't fair, the stinging, white hot rage, and desire to kill Tilghman, when he grabbed his boy's hand and led him away.

It wasn't fair how broken and ashamed Hamilton looked when he returned to John, eyes glazed, tear-streaked and bruised, stinking like sex and gin. 

It wasn't fair how desperate and fragile he felt, scrabbling for the younger, fighting to claim what was his with, more bruises and seed.

It wasn't fair the sobs that wracked both, crying and clinging, his sweet boy tucked under his chin, because the world would never let them be, and this was all they'd ever have.

It wasn't fair, when the bullet bit him, and his vision swam, that his only thought was of Alexander, "my boy", and "please," because maybe in another place where it didn't matter so, they were happy, they could love.

Maybe.

 

It wasn't fair.

It never was


End file.
